


Old Leather Boots

by delovelieink



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:57:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3092084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delovelieink/pseuds/delovelieink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin takes Regina to the woods to teach her archery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Leather Boots

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as part of the OUAT Secret Santa gift exchange on Tumblr. Written for letitsnowwhite | tumblr.

Regina’s bare fingers burn from the cold. This autumn air feels more like the first brush of winter, and her kid leather gloves lie discarded on the moss. She looks down at her feet—polished black leather boots with shorter heels than she normally wears. All her shuffling and adjusting her stance on this spot has worn two shallow ruts in the forest floor.

Her fingers curl around the bowstring, arrow notched, and tries to keep in mind all of Robin’s instructions. Hips and shoulders making a straight line to the target to her left. She breathes in and raises the outlaw’s bow, pulling the string back as far as she can take it. The bow seems especially stubborn and unyielding, and it takes much of Regina’s strength to make it bend. She’s hardly weak either, keeping up a strict regimen of strength training. But she feels she cannot hold it taut like this for too long and inwardly curses the temperature.

Everything seems so much more vivid in the cold—the tremble of her muscles, the tickle of the feather fletching, even the smell of the woods still damp from the morning’s rain. Or perhaps it is Robin’s presence behind her that heightens her senses. Even from the time they first met, being close to him made Regina much more acutely aware of her body—the brush of her hair against her neck, the warmth filling her cheeks.

“Tighten your core, right here,” Robin says, putting a hand suddenly on her stomach, below her ribcage. She nearly loses the arrow right then. Her muscles tighten immediately under his touch, almost as if he electrifies them.

“And pinch with your shoulderblades more, right along here.” He runs a finger down the groove of her spine, sparks trailing behind his touch.

She hears Robin chuckle once. “Don’t forget to breathe,” he advises, and then Regina realizes her lungs had stopped. She exhales, keeping her core muscles tight and strong and imagining her shoulderblades coming closer together. Robin puts two fingers of pressure on her elbow, silently showing her to lower it so it comes back in line with the arrow.

“And remember, ease your grip here.” He touches her knuckles on her bow hand. “You’re not trying to choke anyone.” That quip makes Regina smile, almost laugh. Because how many had she held in the chokehold with her magic, including Robin himself once?

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready,” Regina confirms, pulling it even tighter and touching the string to the tip of her nose and the middle of her lips to steady it.

“That’s my queen,” he says softly before stepping back to give her room.

She breathes in, focusing on her target—a nice, large bullseye Robin set 25 yards away. Her whole body is lined up toward it, the point of the arrow ready to lodge itself in the red center.

She breathes out and releases. The string snaps back into place and the arrow soars free.

Whizzing past the target board altogether and scaring a flock of sparrows out from under a far shrub.

Regina shuts her eyes and fights the urge to stomp her feet in frustration. The tenth shot today, and not a single one landing anywhere near the target board.

She hears raucous giggles.

“Roland! It’s not nice to laugh; she’s learning,” Robin shouts.

Regina opens her eyes and finds the mop of curly hair and dimpled cheeks. He’s watching from a ridge, using a decaying log as a barricade. But Regina is hardly upset by Roland’s laughter. In fact it makes her start laughing at herself and how seriously she is taking this.

“Oh yeah?” she mock-challenges him. “I bet you can’t hit that target.”

“I can too!” he yells back.

She drops the bow and runs over to scoop him up in her arms and hold him against her chest. He’s getting heavy, growing fast. “Well, maybe you should show me how it’s done.” They turn to look back at Robin, who is watching them and shaking his head. “And then maybe I’ll teach you how to waltz.”

“What’s a waltz?”

“You’ve never waltzed before? It’s a dance. You hold my hand”—she laces her fingers with Roland’s—“and we go like this. Da-da-da, da-da-da.” She sings the three-beat melody gently and starts to step and turn, supporting Roland on one arm.

She remembers doing this with Henry when he was a toddler, dancing around and around the room with him in her arms, Henry in his favorite pajamas with the little wizards on them, Regina in her chocolate-brown satiny nightgown. Nightlamps threw shadows and lights and colors around the room. A hanging mobile took the place of a chandelier above their heads. Back then, Regina didn’t know that her “improvised” steps actually were a formal dance, learned in another lifetime. The memory potion had taken care of that. All she knew was baby Henry loved it and he squealed in delight as she swooped around with him in her arms.

Then a different memory comes to the forefront of Regina’s mind. She dances a waltz under the eye of her mother with a heavy book balanced on her head to train her posture. Cora watches with a heavy frown and sends a slap of magic when Regina misses a step. The book falls to the floor, its pages crumpling and creasing. Regina fights the urge to cry. “ _Mother my shoes hurt. Can we stop?_ ”

“ _They wouldn’t hurt if you broke them in gradually like I told you to. And I don’t know what decent man going to marry an ornery thing like you if you can’t even dance. Fifteen years old and can’t even walk in heels—I’ve never seen anything like it._ ”

Then the scene changes again. Regina’s in the grand ballroom of the castle. The walls are high and silvery and cold. Windows stretch from floor to ceiling, revealing a vast world that she longed to get lost in, but was never allowed to see. King Leopold’s grip is tight around her waist as he steers her forcefully around the ballroom floor. His pet, his pretty accessory…

Regina has stopped humming. Roland looks at her, confused why she stopped. She puts him back down and says, “Never mind, I never liked waltzing much anyway.”

Then Robin is by her side again. “Regina?” he asks gently, folding her into a sheltering embrace.

She’s forgotten how good this feels, how he makes her feel safe and protected from everything when he holds her like this. He was gone for a long time after crossing the cursed town line. Now the last of the magic is broken, and the boundary is nothing but a line of harmless orange spraypaint.

“I’m fine,” she says a little curtly.

“Was it Cora? Or he King?” He knows she still has flashbacks sometimes, even if she’s an expert at hiding it by now. Only Robin can tell when she is concealing them. He’s always been such an empathetic person, able to read emotions as though he’s attuned to them.

She doesn’t want to answer, but after a moment she admits, “Both.”

Robin doesn’t pry, just holds her. She thinks how she doesn’t deserve this—all the kindness, compassion, and warmth he offers. How he lets her in so unguardedly. And how badly she wants to offer him something in return, but has no idea what.

“You know,” he changes the subject. “I’ve never learned to dance before.” He has a small, wily smile on his face.

“Can we just stick with the archery?”

“By all means we can. But Regina, you can show me part of your world too.”

A knot forms in her stomach. Her immediate response is _Waltzing is not my world_ but she doesn’t say it. Because in a way, it was.

Instead she pretends not to hear his last comment. She picks up the bow again. “If I can catch your arrows, I should be able to shoot one into a board that’s nearly as big as a door.”

 

On Saturdays, Regina, Emma, Henry and the Charmings all get together for a family lunch at Granny’s Diner. It’s become somewhat of a tradition. Regina arrives right on the dot, but Snow is always there first with David, perfectly punctual as she is. Emma brings Henry over. They tend to walk in anywhere between five and thirty minutes late, looking thick as thieves.

This week, Emma brings Belle along to join the group. Ruby, after bringing all their orders, takes her lunch break and squeezes in next to Snow, hugging her best friend. Belle takes young Neal from Snow to make more room for Ruby and bounces the toddler on her knees.

“Hey there little writer,” she greets Belle. “I hear you have some big news.”

Belle blushes and starts laughing. “How do you know already? I’ve barely told anyone.”

“She got a letter,” Ruby offers with a wide grin.

“Well, one of the agents responded. He said he likes my book and wants to help me get it published.”

Snow breaks into a huge smile. “Belle, that’s wonderful!”

“It is. Congratulations,” Regina says, and she means it. Even if she’s had enough of books for one lifetime. Her relationship with Belle was one of the more difficult to mend, and she knows it speaks volumes that the beauty is willing to sit at the same table as her.

Henry, sitting next to Regina, starts on his two giant burgers. He’s been growing and eating like a wolf recently. He’s taller than Regina now by a couple inches. Though she misses how little he was—how she used to press him to her chest and his head would fit in the space between her chin and collarbone so she could rest her cheek against his hair—she is proud to watch him growing into a young man.

He has his eyes on girl now; Jefferson’s own Grace as it happens. She’s also grown up to become a lovely young woman. She wears a white felt hat with a black ribbon wherever she goes, no doubt one her father made. Regina catches his eyes drifting to her when they see her in town. She also knows that he goes to sweet shop when Grace is working behind the register to talk to her.

Who knows, maybe soon they would be stealing kisses among the sugar dust, the savory aroma of melted chocolate, and golden wrappers. Much like Regina did in the barn with her Daniel among the dust and the golden stands of hay at their feet.

Henry is now giving an animated recap of this sport he and his friends have begun playing. At least Regina _thinks_ it’s a sport. They run on broomsticks and have to score goals—it’s a little complicated. Quidditch. Emma knows all about it; she probably gave him the idea.

“So Zach got the ball and broke through the defenses and he’s running up to me—I was Keeper that round. I’m not letting him cut past me. And then he makes to throw—” Henry acts out the motion “—which makes me react, but he was faking and he dodges to the other side. He has a clear shot, takes it. Then I launch myself in the air and save it. Grace said it was epic.”

Regina barely understands the game, especially something called a Snitch, but she hangs on his every word.

That’s when Robin walks in. He orders a cup of black coffee and motions Regina over. Ruby throws Regina an exaggerated wink.

His appearance brings back the knot in Regina’s stomach and the nagging echo of his words form last time—letting him in to her world—and she hesitates for a moment before going over.

Everyone at the table has their own special places. David and Snow have their troll bride. Henry and Grace have the broomstick ballgame they both play, and the candy shop where they meet. Belle has her books; Regina knows how she gets lost in them. Emma and Henry still meet in the playground where his “castle” used to be. And Ruby. She has this diner, and the club where she invites Belle, Snow, and Emma for ladies nights out. But what about her?

Regina slips into a barstool next to his. Robin says, “Sorry to interrupt your lunch. I was thinking to go out and try the archery again later today. We can improve on last time.”

“Actually, Robin, I was thinking rather not.”

“Okay, we don’t have to do archery, but just—”

“Not today,” Regina cuts him off.

His forehead creases and he looks around before lowering his voice. “Is everything okay? You seemed troubled last time and I haven’t heard from you since then.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

He gives her a look.

“Really,” Regina emphasizes. “I have to sort some things out.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“Next Friday,” Regina says with a finality in her voice. “At this time. Meet at my place.”

Robin looks baffled. “If you say so, milady.”

Now she has a week to come up with something.

 

“I am not late, you are simply early,” Regina retorts the next Friday. Robin is leaning against her doorframe while she roots around in the back of the shoe closet. He knows better by now than to correct her.

Regina groans. “They are supposed to be in here.”

She has entirely too many pointed stilettos arrayed neatly in racks. She pushes aside so many soft suede ankle boots and hears soft clicks as decorative buckles bump together. None of these will do.

She gets to the very back of the closet, where some of Henry’s outgrown sneakers are piled up, still waiting to be donated. There she finds them. She smiles and pulls them out.

Robin gives her a quizzical look. “I didn’t think you owned shoes like that.”

They are unlike her other boots. Old and worn, with deep creases rippling the surface of dark brown leather. Barely any heel to speak of. They were also unpolished and covered with dust.

Regina gives him a cheeky grin. “You know, I wasn’t always in the mayor’s office or taking an afternoon stroll through town during the curse.”

Robin’s flustered. “Well, of course, I wasn’t suggesting…” Regina puts a finger to his lips.

She pulls on the boots. They feel so familiar and soft. “Come on, I have a surprise for you.” She leads him to her car.

“Where are we going?”

“That’s the surprise.”

 

Regina pulls the car to a stop in front of Storybrooke Stables.

“What’s this?” Robin asks, getting out of the car.

“Come on,” Regina says, pulling him up the path to the barn.

“But really, out of all the places why here?”

“Because I grew up loving to ride, and I know you used to steal horses and I thought…” She looks down at her old riding boots, one of her toes twisting a circle in the gritty dirt. Around everyone else she knows what to say, but not him. Then the words come rushing out gracelessly like wine from a knocked-over bottle. “Since the last time you asked me about my world, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. It’s always you who is giving between us, and I am the careful and closed one. I still don’t know how to love very well; it’s been so many years since…”

Robin cuts her off her flow of words by cupping her face in his hands and kissing her mid-sentence. Regina is surprised at first but then relaxes and leans in, searching for those sweet spots under his lips. Her hands start reaching up to his to feel the curve of his shoulders.

They break apart and Robin says, “You don’t have to worry. You’ve given me nothing but most sincere love I have known. I don’t know why you still doubt your heart when I see it is more than enough. You have been a central part of my world since meeting in that wood, when you saved Roland, and I have never been able to shake you since.”

Regina beams. “Well, that’s good. Because it’s exactly how I’ve felt about you.”

She brings her lips to his, feeling the liberating sense of a weight sliding off her shoulders. Pressing closer, her body against his and feeling nothing but his sturdy presence. He is right here, not going anywhere anymore.

His musky, woodsy scent like resin and pine mingles with the warm smell of hay, horses, oiled leather, and saddle soap. For the first time, the memory of kissing Daniel under the eaves of the barn back home doesn’t hurt. This kiss is the same and yet it’s completely different. It lacks the youthful exuberance; they are both more mature and their passions run deeper. They kiss slower, taking the time to caress every inch.

This barn is different too, with a slightly different smell. It’s not burdened by old memories. They can create new ones here. This can be _their_ place.

Regina rests her forehead on Robin’s, feeling completely safe and at ease. “Come on,” she says. “We’re still going for that ride.”

 

They take to the woods on their mounts, following a trail Regina is familiar with. Regina trots ahead on her feisty black mare, giving her an extra nudge to jump over a fallen log in the middle of the path. Regina gets a thrill from the breeze lifting her hair. She’s back in her element.

“That’s impressive and all, now wait up!”

Regina pulls to a stop and looks back over her shoulder. Robin’s chestnut horse steps over the log at a walk.

“Just wait until we get to the meadow. Then we can really stretch their legs.”

“I suppose where we are going is all part of the surprise, isn’t it?”

“Well, well. Quite the guesser.”

“Ever the suspense with you.”

Regina laughs.

 

They’ve been riding for a long while. By now, they’ve gone well outside the town limits. Regina stops her mare and dismounts by a clearing where the trees thin and the hillside drops away to give a panoramic view.

“There may not be magic in this land, but there is something special about it anyway,” she says.

The overlook opens up to reveal the meeting of mountains and valleys coming together at the sea. Among the green trees, large swaths have changed color. There are whole groves of fiery oranges and sun-melted golds, and here and there a head of scarlet. They are like veins of bright crystal shooting through a rock. Back in the Enchanted Forest, the trees stayed green all year round, and the trees in Storybrooke itself do much the same. So this is Robin’s first time experiencing the colors of the season, which Regina has come to love precisely because of this.

“That’s incredible. How is it possible?”

“A little thing called autumn,” Regina tells him. “In this land, some of the trees change color as their leaves die and fall off before winter. They spend the winter with bare branches, until spring when it all grows back again.”

“Strange land, but I kind of like it.”

“I thought you might.”

They stand together admiring the view until Regina turns to him with a velvety, red-lipped smile. “Care to dance?” she asks, offering up her hand.

Robin takes a moment to look at her, as though he isn’t sure whether or not she is serious. “I would love to.”

She takes Robin’s left hand in her right and guides his right hand to the soft curve of her shoulderblade. She lays her left hand on his shoulder and holds their clasped hands up. “This is where we start.”

Standing so close, bodies pressed together at the waist, they are almost close enough for Regina to feel the warmth of Robin’s breath on her face. The toes of their feet are sliding against one another like they are exchanging whispered conversations.

“Now you have to follow my feet.”

Regina takes a step back with her right foot, and Robin does the same thing. Regina chuckles.

“No, no dear. Your foot forward, my foot back,” she corrects him.

They come back to center and Regina repeats the step, and this time Robin’s foot goes with hers as if there was an invisible string connecting the tips of their toes.

Next step: Regina steps diagonally out and back with her left foot and Robin follows, lagging a little behind her movement.

Step together, forward, diagonal, together. And they are back to start. Regina tells Robin to imagine their steps drawing the four sides of a box.

She starts to sing the three-beat melody again, like she did with Roland and guides Robin through the six steps again. Back, diagonal, together, forward, diagonal, together. Again.

Robin follows her awkwardly, head down to see his feet. By the time Regina adds in the turns, he is lost. They break hold to laugh against each other, Regina leaning her forehead against his neck.

“Maybe this is the reason we merry men sneak into ballrooms and avoid the balls,” Robin says.

“Nonsense, you can do this.”

She slides her hand into his palm and brings him back into hold. Nearby the horses nicker and a breeze lifts the leaves. Robin sets his gaze on his feet before beginning again, but this time Regina lifts his chin with two fingers so their eyes connect.

“Trust me,” she says.

She edges closer to close the space between their bodies. She waits for him to take the first step and she follows, singing that melody to keep time. Then Robin’s voice joins hers, syncing with her tempo and they fall into pace.

That same basic box step that Regina was coached through countless times until she both hated it and could do it as naturally as drawing breath, became something new and delightful. She was the surefooted one for a change, guiding and coaxing her partner. Forgiving his stumbles and missteps, and re-establishing the pattern again.

Robin’s blue-green eyes slipped a few times, darting back instinctively down, but always came back to her again. Soon their movements are flowing smoothly one into the next and they are waltzing. Technically, it’s a very simple and hardly proper waltz, but Regina enjoys it all the more for it.

Then the melody evaporates, the last notes lost to the air. They slip from their hold, and Robin kisses the tops of her hand as though she was the queen who had granted him a dance on at the royal ball. But there’s no need for that. Regina tugs him closer and kisses him in the lips like she did at the barn.


End file.
